


Of Ruffling

by Crowgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Everyone Should Use Their Words, Fluff, Getting Together, Hair, M/M, Not Beta Read, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: So he reaches out and he ruffles Captain America’s hair.





	Of Ruffling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catchclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/gifts).



It starts as nothing in particular: Tony is leaving the conference room, Steve is sitting by the door, and Tony ruffles his hair on his way by. 

* * *

The meeting had been pretty light -- Tony is starting to think that Coulson was using discussions of security violations to flirt with Barton -- and no-one had stomped out of the room or thrown papers at the wall or threatened to leave the state.

* * *

Add to that the fact that Coulson called the meeting early so Tony gets to go back to his tinkering and he's in a pretty good mood so, yeah, he reaches out and he ruffles Captain America’s hair. 

It’s soft, is the first thing he registers. Really soft. Like no product soft.

And then he freezes because he has his _hand_ in Captain America’s _hair_ and is that a felony? or treason? or something? 

But all that happens is Steve sighing and craning his head back to give Tony what would be a stern look if he were right way up and Bucky snickering.

‘Something you want, Tony?’ Steve arches an eyebrow and Tony snatches his hand back.

‘Er -- no -- I -- just -- y’know, good job. Champ,’ Tony adds for good measure.

‘Good job -- doing what?’ 

‘Uh -- y’know -- your whole -- thing.’ Tony waves a hand. ‘Good job with it.’

‘Existing, Stevie,’ Bucky chimes in. ‘He’s complimenting your existence.’

Steve directs the eyebrow at Bucky who simply grins in the face of it.

* * *

Tony makes a point of doing the same thing after the next meeting, flipping the heavy wave of hair over Steve’s forehead in the opposite direction. Steve just shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair until it resettles. 

* * *

The next time, Steve is in the middle of talking something over with Natasha and reaches up without looking to whack at Tony’s hand, then pulls him in towards the table to show him something on the building schematic Natasha has found.

* * *

The next time, Tony happens to be in the chair nearest the door and distracted by an idea for improving one of Natasha’s gadgets and doesn’t notice Steve working his way around with the table until he feels something heavy and warm land on his head and then _scritch_ at the short hair over his ears. 

‘The fuck!’ He jolts back in his chair and stares up at Steve who grins back down at him. 

‘Fair’s fair,’ Steve says and follows Bucky out the door.

* * *

After that, it’s more like a game: how far apart can they sit and one of them still catch the other before they leave the room. Tony has the advantage of size and speed -- and Bucky helping him out more than once by coming up with some incredibly important question Steve just _has_ to answer there and then -- but Steve’s stride is an advantage Tony can’t match and, truth be told, as time goes by, Tony tries less and less. 

It’s -- nice, is the thing. It’s just a silly little thing they do for no other reason than it makes all three of them smile. Bucky had gotten on the imaginary board by managing to catch Tony and Steve sitting side by side and making them _both_ look as if a high wind had swept through the conference room. Tony had only managed to catch Bucky once, but it turned out long hair was even easier to mess up than short and he leaves Bucky cursing. This probably explains why the next time Bucky catches Tony it’s less of a hair ruffle and more of an assault on the top of his head, complete with a noogie; Tony squawks at Steve for help but Steve’s laughing too hard to be of much help to anyone.

* * *

But Tony doesn’t admit to himself how much he’s been enjoying the whole thing until he sees Bucky and Steve in the kitchen one evening. They don’t see him and Tony sees a smile that really should not be outside the bedroom and a hand on a shoulder that turns into a stroke that turns into a gentle pull that turns into mouths meeting and, yeah, okay, maybe he didn’t need those last crab rangoons after all. 

* * *

After that, Tony tries to bring the game to an end. It hardly seems fair if Steve and Bucky have finally worked their shit out for him to keep doing something so -- personal. Just when it had _become_ personal. Tony tries not to think about too hard. It was just a silly little thing. Easy to let go. Super, super easy. 

* * *

So he lets it go. And he doesn’t think about it. And he keeps his eyes on his tablet in meetings. And he leaves without speaking to -- or touching -- anyone. 

* * *

That works for two meetings -- the first of which Steve isn’t at and the second of which Bucky spends staring at him, dark gaze intent but unreadable. 

* * *

Steve’s back for the third meeting and it’s just him, Tony, Bucky, Coulson, and Barton and Barton keeps Tony talking about a new bow until Coulson turns to leave, then darts after him like they’re magnetically linked.

Tony shakes his head, scribbles a last idea on the tablet, then pushes himself to his feet. It’s only when he glances down the room that he realises Steve and Bucky are sitting side by side in the chairs closest to the door, both looking at him expectantly. 

‘Um,’ Tony says, putting the tablet down and trying to calculate his chances of making it to the door if he flat-out bolts. 

Steve raises an eyebrow, tilts his head slightly. 

‘So -- uh -- you two --’ Tony waves a hand at them. ‘That’s -- good.’ He swallows again. ‘Uh. Congratulations.’ 

Bucky and Steve are both silent and not simply _silent,_ Tony feels, but _epically_ silent -- like their silence has depth and height and weight and what the fuck has he ever done to deserve this? He’s _trying_ to be a good guy here, _trying_ to tell his friends -- his _friends,_ for fuck’s sake! -- that he’s happy for them, and just -- let the rest the fuck go and what is he getting for his trouble? Stared at, _that’s_ what he’s getting. ‘So is there something you want or are you just...practicing looking at things?’ 

There’s no response and Tony throws his hands up. ‘Fine. Whatever. Let me know when you actually want to communicate.’ He gives the tablet a shove that sends it halfway across the wide table and stomps towards the door.

There’s no way he can get to the door without passing within arm’s reach of the chairs and Steve catches one wrist, Bucky the other.

‘Okay, look, all I wanted were the crab rangoons, okay?’ Tony says. ‘And it’s not like the kitchen’s private. If you wanna make out, you’ve both got rooms with doors that lock nice and tight.’ 

‘Is that why you stopped touching us?’ Steve asks, his fingers relaxing on Tony’s wrist. 

Tony blinks. ‘I -- yes.’

‘Why?’ Bucky asks.

Tony blinks again. ‘It -- didn’t seem -- like you’d -- want me to keep doing it.’

‘Did either of us ask you to stop?’ Steve asks.

‘Uh. No?’ 

‘Don’t you think we would have if we’d wanted you to?’ 

‘Uh.’ 

‘We’re both pretty straightforward guys, Tony,’ Steve points out and Tony is sure he has a comeback for that somewhere but his vocabulary is slightly drowned by the sensory data pouring in telling him that Steve is sliding his fingers between the fingers of Tony’s left hand and Bucky’s stroking his right palm with cool metal fingers. 

‘Are you,’ Tony says, narrowing his eyes, first at Steve and then at Bucky. ‘Straightforward, huh.’

Steve nods. ‘I like to think so, yeah.’

Tony twists his wrists at the same moment, catching their hands and pulling them to their feet. They’re pressed tight together like this, Tony’s shoulder in Steve’s chest, Bucky’s in Tony’s.

‘Well,’ Tony says, a little breathless because Bucky’s free hand is on the small of his back and Steve’s is actually _on_ his ass, ‘why didn’t you say something?’


End file.
